Jill / Until Proven Innocent

The next morning was Saturday, so I slept late. When I got up, I strode to 209. I was going to be civil to Amy. We were both, like human beings, going to go downstairs and ask Miss Quelter for a room change.

As I walked up the stairs, the people in the hallway seemed to stare at me longer than usual. The usual conversation buzz grew quiet when I passed by. The tension was strange-it had a tangible, dangerous feeling to it, like electricity in the wrong form or something.

When I got to 209, I knew something was wrong. There were police lines circling my room. A huge box bearing the word EVIDENCE was outside the half opened door. I noticed my picture of Adam and me in the box and quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in my backpack. Silently, I pushed open the door to my room, stepping over something on the ground.

A knife.

My heart was racing. I just got a glimpse of our open window, with the pink curtains fluttering ominously in the breeze, when a black-gloved hand came down on my shoulder. The policeman took me into a separate room where the flitting whispers of the students wouldn't disturb us.

It was then when he told me that Amy Harrelson was dead.